Prickly Pair
by freddlerabbit
Summary: A response to the April Fools' Day Challenge - someone is setting Reid up for a fall. Or are they?
1. Joke's On Me

**A/N: one-shot, silly, in response to the April Fools' Prompt on Fanfic Challenge Round 10 proposed by ****tonnie2001969****. **

_The first of April is the day we remember what we are the other 364 days of the year. - __Mark Twain_

"Look," Prentiss said, drawing her eyebrows slightly together as she explained, "you know how he feels about Hallowe'en."

"Hallowe'en?" Reid enquired as he entered the bullpen, walking briskly to his desk and depositing his scuffed messenger bag on top of it. "Why are you two discussing Hallowe'en? It's only April. In fact," he began, "although 'April Fools' Day' has a history of pranking similar to that of Hallowe'en, certainly in American culture, but also in other cultures as well, such as the Scottish, its historical underpinnings are quite unclear. There is a common theory that the original April Fools' Day resulted from a change in the celebration in the New Year, with the adoption of the Gregorian calendar in the late 1500s in France – 1582 to be exact –"

When he paused briefly, to breathe, Prentiss quickly stemmed the tide of explanation with an upraised hand. Anyone within earshot could see where this was going.

"OK, OK. So I guess we don't have to fear anything from Reid," she said wearily. "But I'm sure something is up."

"Up?" Reid responded, his eyebrows climbing towards his hairline. "Oh, you mean, you think someone has played an April Fool's joke on you? What is it?"

Prentiss made an exasperated noise. "Reid, if I knew that, I wouldn't be worried anymore." She shot Morgan a meaningful glare. "I'd just be mad. And motivated by revenge."

Morgan lifted his hands in mock surrender and pushed his chair slightly back from his desk. "Hey, hey," he protested. "Don't go blaming me for something that hasn't even happened. Look, Prentiss, I think you should be concerned that your paranoia will make you so anxious you embarrass yourself in front of your co-workers. Because that's the only amusing thing I can see from where I'm sitting." He thought for a moment. His gaze sharpened on Reid. "Well, that and Reid's hair."

Reid's face registered a look of instant alarm as his hands flew up to pat furiously at his head. Prentiss' glare melted into laughter and snorts as he pulled a large yellow square out of the brown tangles. She had been so focused on what he might be pulling, she hadn't noticed the yellow triangle peeping out from behind his left ear until Morgan said something.

"What? How did I, who – how did this even get on my head?" he sputtered.

"I don't know," cackled Prentiss, "but I would dearly love to thank whoever is responsible! Ooh, there's writing on it! How about you share that with the class, Reid?"

The young agent unfolded the note and read it, his alarm turning to embarrassment as a blush ran across his face. "It says, FEED ME," he admitted. "I'm not sure whether that is supposed to be directed at me or my hair." This last sentence ended on a questioning note, and he looked around the bullpen, certain that whichever of his colleagues had achieved this prank would now come forward to confess and set him up for additional teasing. Morgan laughed, and turned back to his desk. Reid wasn't defensive about his body type or appearance, not really. And he knew that teasing was an important form of social bonding for groups, even including the person being teased, as long as it didn't cross over into bullying or ostracism.

No one came forward.

In fact, no one besides Prentiss and Morgan was even paying attention. Hotch's door was closed, Rossi's was closed with the lights off, and Garcia was at least out of sight, presumably nestled among her computers.

Prentiss continued to emit the occasional snort as she began opening a casefile and making notes.

Reid frowned, crumpling the little yellow note into a ball and chucking it into his wastebasket. He didn't mind a little teasing, but it was less pleasant when the person responsible stayed hidden – an unwillingness to meet his eye gave a different context to the gesture, making it appear meaner. What was going on? He sighed, and went to retrieve a cup of coffee.

Returning to his desk, Reid sat down and shook his head to clear his thoughts. He, too, opened some files, and began scanning rapidly through them. The post-it-note was rapidly forgotten. The three agents proceeded to work mostly in silence, interrupted by the occasional question or exchange of ideas, all earlier joking put aside. Morgan and Prentiss conferred, briefly, on their respective plans for the weekend, which seemed to intersect. Reid said nothing - his plans this weekend didn't include any other people. Sometimes, he felt the social differences between himself and his colleagues keenly. Sometimes, they didn't seem to matter. He wasn't sure which one of those times this was.

He bent his head back over his files. Soon the little yellow ball in Reid's wastebasket was covered by pencil shavings, a candy wrapper, shreds of "confidential" seals, and eraser rice.

After three hours, he rose from his desk, stretched his arms above his head, and walked to the kitchen for his second cup of coffee of the day. Movement caught his eye as he bent over the pouring carafe.

"Come on, that's enough," he said frustratedly, as he picked up another yellow square. It had fallen to the floor when he bent over the coffee mug. This one had a strand of wavy brown hair stuck to the adhesive on the back of the message. It said, "I'M STILL HUNGRY."

Reid studied the writing. It was all in capitals, and appeared to be written with the left hand by someone who normally wrote with his or her right, to avoid identification. He supposed that ruled out Garcia. He wasn't sure what was going on, here. Clearly, one of his colleagues had seized on the April Fool's Day tradition to amuse him or herself at his expense – but to what end? Was he just going to have to spend all day pulling post-it notes out of his hair? How _had _the person managed to get away with that, twice, anyway?

Reid didn't always see the humour in things that his coworkers found funny, but he was quite capable of being amused by things, even by himself, when he could understand why his behavior would seem funny. He had long been subject to commentary about his thin build and his unruly hair, and for the most part, took this affectionate teasing by Morgan, Garcia, Prentiss – and once, memorably, Hotch – in its stride.

He found the continued harping on the theme by the mystery note writer, however, somewhat annoying. If it had been amusing at first, that was quickly fading.

He sighed. He glanced briefly around the breakroom. Not unaware that the notes may have been exacerbating his hunger, Reid walked back to his desk, fumbling in his jacket for a snack. He stopped short when he was several feet from his chair. A yellow note sat on his seat.

"Okay, Morgan, Prentiss, enough. Really, this is just irritating now, and I need you to stop."

Morgan looked up with his usual smirk, ready to make a witty comeback. Was he really responsible for this? Reid felt slightly hurt; he had believed that he and Morgan trusted and knew one another enough that Morgan would knew when he'd crossed the line into harassment. Prentiss beat him to it.

"Stop what, Reid?" she asked, her eyes opening as she lifted her eyebrows with the question. Morgan chuckled, stood, and walked to Reid's chair. "It looks like prettyboy over here has got himself a secret admirer. What's this, Reid? "COME AND GET ME – NO ENERGY BARS"? Maybe whoever it is wants to take you out for dinner."

"Really, guys, that's enough. This is the third of these notes. It was funny at first, but not anymore. I need you to stop putting this notes on me – on my stuff," he corrected quickly. He wasn't sure he wanted to admit the second one had been stuck to him as well.

"Reid, seriously, man, this wasn't me," Morgan said, looking him in the eye. Prentiss looked back and forth between the two men.

"What wasn't you, hot stuff?" Garcia bustled in. "I've got those photographs from Nebraska you wanted. You may all bow in reverence."

"Somebody's been leaving Reid love letters," Morgan began – and then, at Reid's angry glare, "post-it notes with messages on them. He's not amused."

"Love letters? Really?" enthused Garcia. "Let me see!" She stuck her hand out at Morgan, completely oblivious to the daggers of Reid's gaze. "Hmm, that doesn't sound very lovey-dovey to me. Are you sure these are love notes, Reid? Who're they from?"

Reid exhaled, and ran a hand through his hair. He felt a surge of relief when all his fingers encountered was, well, hair.

"No, Garcia, I'm not. I mean, they're not love letters. Someone has been putting these messages about "FEED ME" and "NO ENERGY BARS" on my desk and things all morning, and I've kind of had enough of it. Morgan swears he's not involved."

Garcia's eyes widened and she took a step back. "Oh, gosh, I'm sorry, I didn't realize. . . it wasn't me, you know. Actual paper really isn't my style."

"No, I know, Garcia. I'm not blaming you. Besides, you're left-handed. You know what, let's – let's just forget about this and get back to work, okay? I hope the joke is over." He glared around the room.

Mumbling apologies or sympathy, the other three agents scattered to their respective desks and duties.

It took all of Reid's self-control not to utter a sound when he finished one case file and opened the next after two minutes, only to find, "NOT _YOU_, GENIUS, FEED _ME_." He exhaled sharply, stood up, and charged out the door, without pausing to say a word to any of his colleagues.


	2. Fooling Yourself?

**A/N: one-shot, silly, in response to the April Fools' Prompt on Fanfic Challenge Round 10 proposed by ****tonnie2001969****. **

"What's the matter with Reid?" asked Rossi, making a late entrance to his office. He'd passed the young doctor in the hallway, storming out with a grim look on his face.

"April Fool's joke," Morgan commented. "Sort of."

"I see." Rossi waited, and when no explanation was forthcoming, lifted an eyebrow and proceeded into his office. The bullpen was quiet enough that Morgan could hear the lights fizz on.

"You know," Rossi's voice drifted down from above, "for an April Fool's joke, this isn't very subtle."

Prentiss and Morgan shot up from their chairs as though someone had pressed an eject button. Glancing at one another, they half-ran up the stairs to Rossi's office. They froze at the door and stared.

David Rossi stood behind his desk. His face wasn't sure whether it was amused or irritated, though it wavered more towards the former at the expressions of the two agents who'd collided in the doorframe. "Relax. I'm pretty sure it's nonlethal." He held up a small blue pot containing a completely round plant with long, sharp spines. Something dangled from one of the plant's needles and a sticker was pasted on the front. Seeing as Morgan and Prentiss hadn't said anything yet, he continued, "I found this on my chair." Eyebrow raised.

"Well? Did you think I was going to sit down without looking?"

Prentiss and Morgan looked at each other, looked back at Rossi, and started speaking at the same time.

"Sir, I don't know why you think we -"

"Why do I automatically get suspected when anything goes wrong -"

"Relax, relax," Rossi muttered. "I suppose it wasn't you after all. But it doesn't seem like Reid's style, either."

"Reid?" they chorused. "He just left," finished Prentiss.

"I know that," Rossi reminded them, patiently. "But look here." His finger tapped the bottom edge of the pot. The sticker was a name tag, but most of the space beneath "Hello, my name is" was blank. Block capitals ran along the bottom, stating, "PROPERTY OF DOCTOR SPENCER REID."

"Rossi, normally, I would say, just return it to him – confront him with it, or not – but I don't understand what is going on here today," Morgan admitted. "Reid is pretty upset about those notes he's been getting." Which then, of course, required an explanation of the morning's events. The three agents stood silently for a moment.

"Well, I'm not much for houseplants," Rossi decided aloud, "so, despite the risk, I think I'm going to return this one to its rightful owner. Assuming it's not lying about who that is." He walked down to Reid's desk, dutifully trailed by Prentiss and Morgan, and set the little pot down with a thunk. The three of them stared at it.

Conveniently, Reid had chosen that moment to return, and burst through the door, accelerating at full speed once he saw Prentiss and Morgan had been joined by Rossi at his desk. His voice rose even higher as he confronted them. "Cactus?" he said, disbelievingly. "A cac- did you see, did you guys see who put that there?" He swallowed.

"I did," Rossi confessed. Reid looked at him, completely dumbstruck. "No, I mean, I found it in my office, with your name on it. On my chair, to be exact. I figured I should return it to you, although Prentiss and Morgan here weren't so sure." Morgan actually flinched. Reid opened and closed his mouth without saying anything. Once. Twice. A third time. He cleared his throat.

"I, uh. Okay." They stared at him. He stared back. "At least no new notes have appeared," he commented, attempting to restore some logic to the situation.

Prentiss' eyes widened. He turned towards her. "What?"

"Nothing, nothing!" She waved her hands and backed away. Rossi looked at the three of them, and shook his head, sighing. He walked back up to his office, muttering something to himself about "team".

Reid and Morgan remained facing each other for a long moment.

"Kid, I swear, I have nothing to do with this."

"Yeah, okay. Okay, Morgan. Thanks. Let's just, let's just get back to work."

"Right."

Morgan sat down, leaving Reid staring at the plant for a few moments before he followed suit. He picked up the pot and studied it. The handwriting from the post-its appeared to match the handwriting from the sticker. "Genus _Ferocactus_," he mused to himself. He poked experimentally at the soil with a long finger, and then realized he wasn't actually sure how to tell when to water a house cactus. He studied the cactus for a few moments. It was aesthetically appealing, he admitted to himself. And it had clearly been potted and prepared with care. He opened the tiny card.

"SORRY ABOUT THE NOTES" it read. "BUT I DON'T DRINK COFFEE. IRREGULAR WATER AND SUNSHINE. I LIKE TO DO LOTS OF THINGS – EVEN MOVIE MARATHONS!"

A corner of his mouth quirked upward in a grin. He carefully removed the card, nad placed it on top of the pile of post-it notes on his desk. He cleared a small space for the pot, and paused a moment to admire the effect before returning to work.

- SCENE BREAK -

At the end of the day, each of Morgan, Prentiss, and Rossi wished Reid a good night – and _not _a Happy April Fool's Day - before they left. Nothing unusual had happened to Prentiss all day, if you excepted her accidentally tripping over Morgan's foot when she got up for coffee herself.

Hotchner merely lifted an eyebrow at the pot, asking "Redecorating?" before proceeding home. When the bullpen fell silent and darkened, Reid picked up his phone. He dialed an internal number.

"Speak! And be blessed with the answers to all your questions."

"Garcia."

Silence.

"I know it was you."

Silence.

"Garcia?"

A small voice. "How did you find out?"

"Well, I figured you had someone else write the notes, because they clearly weren't written by you. But I hadn't told anyone what my plans were for the weekend. You were the only one who could have known that I had ordered the entire Lord of the Rings trilogy on DVD."

"Are you mad?"

"No, no, I'm not. Not anymore."

"I'm really sorry, Reid – I didn't mean to make you feel bad! I just thought it would be funny to leave you little notes from the plant, like she was talking to you. And I had them all written out, and so it was too late by the time I came to check on my work. . ." she trailed off.

"No, that's OK. I'm, uh, glad you didn't write more than four, though." Silence.

"You didn't write more than four, did you, Garcia?"

A pause, then, "Hang on, Boy Wonder."

Several moments later, he heard high heeled shoes hurriedly clicking along the corridor. Garcia paused, looking ashamed, when she first met his eye, but then hurried determinedly up to him and stood at his side. She reached an arm out, and for a moment, Reid thought she might have been going to hug him.

"I guess Morgan didn't point this one out, huh?" She pulled a final note from the back of his jacket. "I asked Rossi to stick it on for me." Reid's face flushed, a little, as he imagined his colleagues filing out of the office without commenting on the note stuck to his back.

"Go on, you might as well read the last one."

He fervently hoped it didn't say, "kick me" or something similar.

Written in Garcia's own hand, this note was much longer.

"I just wanted you to know that you have good friends who care about you. We know an unusual exterior can disguise a friendly heart. You've been awfully. . . well, extra awfully quiet, lately. So, you know, if you ever want company, some of the rest of us like Lord of the Rings, too."

Reid looked up at her. "Thanks, Garcia. This – is really nice."

She blushed and looked down at her feet. "I didn't mean to intrude. I just wanted you to know you have friends here."

"I do know that," he said, bending over to place this last note on top of the others. "I do."

_Real friends are those who, when you feel you've made a fool of yourself, don't feel you've done a permanent job. ~Author Unknown_


End file.
